


Brother in Arms

by Limpet666



Series: While There is Life [11]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Youngling-centric, harch, space dads on the run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 21:32:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13303668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limpet666/pseuds/Limpet666
Summary: Sometimes sharing a species with someone means you're the only one that can solve an issue.





	Brother in Arms

**Author's Note:**

> A youngling-centric piece focussing on the two Harch OC's in this series. 
> 
> (1 Year A066)

“Bel'na, go fetch your brother, please.”

“Which one?” came the obstinate reply, her tone already conveying she wasn't happy with the request.

Qui-Gon breathed out a soft sigh of frustration, keeping his voice calm as he attempted to wrangle Eepli into a fresh diaper. The young rodian was happily squirming and peeping, and joyfully refusing the cooperate.

“The one you **just** heard Misha inform me was on the ceiling of the cargo hold,” Qui-Gon told her calmly.

“Ugh, why have _I_ got to go get him?” The rapacious 9 year old put four of her hands on her hips, and folded the other two arms over her chest. Qui-Gon was sure if he looked up 'stubborn' in a galactic dictionary, there would simply be a picture of their scowling Harch daughter. Obi-Wan had been inclined to agree when he had mentioned it.

“Because your father is asleep, and I'm busy,” Qui-Gon handed Eepli off to Misha, helping the Twi'lek girl settle the baby on her lap to feed. The little Rodian greedily grabbed at the bottle, and then almost immediately went into food-induced trance, one small hand wrapped gently around the end of Misha's lekku.

Qui-Gon then crossed to the row of cribs against the far wall to pick up the next toddler that needed changing and feeding.

“Unless you would rather do this?” he offered, eyebrows raised, and he held out the giggling Kaminoan, Pata De, towards her. Without a doubt the youngling was definitely in need of changing.

The Harch girl recoiled, her face scrunching up in obvious disgust, chelicerae covering her mouth.

“Please, Bel'na, you can get to him the quickest,” Qui-Gon implored in his ever-calm voice. He walked back to the changing table, large hand carefully supporting the Kaminoan's head as he set them down on the changing mat.

Bel'na'chik blew out a frustrated sigh.

“Fine,” she grumbled, turning on her heel and marching out towards the cargo hold.

Terroot wasn't hard to spot. The Harch youngling had an abundance of snow white fur all over his body, which made him stand out against the dark cargo hold ceiling. His brightness would likely fade with time, and as he got older it was expected more dark fur would grow. Bel'na'chik was already seeing her luminous violet fur start to darken to a more mature hue.

“You're such a _pain_ , little brother,” she grumbled as she scrambled her way up a mountain of cargo boxes, her six arms making short work of the climb. She considered using the Force to drag him down off the ceiling, but knew that wasn't why Qui-Gon had sent her.

And if the Force ripples (or her brother's crying) woke Obi-Wan she knew she'd be getting an earful from both her dads.

Not that anyone on board was really blood-related (except the Twi'lek sisters), but they were family nonetheless. Bound together by grief, loss and survival.

And love, of course.

Terroot made a hissing, babbling noise that was _almost_ speech when he saw her climbing towards him, obviously excited to have company. His six eyes were alight with glee, and he was obviously enjoying his freedom as he continued to clamber around the ceiling.

This wasn't the first time he had escaped watchful eyes, and it wouldn't be the last, she was sure. It took only a split second of inattentiveness for the Harch youngling to make his escape.

Even though he was only 18 months old, most of his siblings swore he knew exactly what he was doing when he put himself as far out of reach as possible. He always seemed to find his way to the tallest ceilings, or the most recluse corners. Never anywhere that was easily accessible.

For most of them at least.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both had been known to gently pull him down with the Force when he had been located, rather than climb up on the boxes to retrieve him. Sometimes he was lowered down into their waiting arms with delighted giggles and 6 grasping hands.

More often it was shrieks of displeasure.

“No yelling today,” Bel'na told him as she reached the ceiling. “Papa is sleeping, okay?”

Terroot wasn't even looking at her, so she doubted he was paying attention to what she said.

With a sigh she pulled herself up onto the ceiling, hooked fingers and toes finding every small nook and cranny. She supported her weight with ease, even on the apparently smooth surface.

As she moved towards him, upside down on the horizontal plane, she murmured to him to just _stay put_. She really didn't want to have to chase him all over the ceiling and walls again like _last time_. The toddler could really move when he wanted.

Fortunately this time he allowed her to scoop him up with two hands without protest. Despite being only 9 years old, and Terroot a large toddler, she carried him back to the cargo boxes without difficulty, her two middle arms holding him whilst the other 4 were used for climbing.

The little Harch buried himself in the violet fur of her chest, obviously satisfied with his excursion, and put up no resistance as she jumped down one cargo box at a time. By the time they were back on the ground, he had all eight of his hands and feet curled into robes and fur, holding tight enough that he was in no danger of falling off if she let him go.

“You must stop crawling off,” she scolded him as she headed back to the bedrooms, determined to get him back to Qui-Gon and out of her fur. She got only a sleepy mumble of complete obliviousness in reply.

“I mean it. I don't like chasing after you,” she added in an insistent grumble. But for all her attempted harshness was rewarded with six big blue eyes looking up at her with utter adoration.

She may have pretended to not care much for him, but Terroot was obviously delighted by his big sister.

“Ugh… stop it,” she complained, pointedly not looking at him nor the way he cuddled into her with complete trust, chirping his content.

And if she wrapped her arms a little tighter around him it was only to make sure he didn't fall off. That was all.

 

 


End file.
